


Popsicle

by thatgreencj



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Popsicles, Ryden, Tour Bus Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgreencj/pseuds/thatgreencj
Summary: Brendon happens to be very seductive with popsicles, Ryan happens to be very turned on.





	Popsicle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: never happened probably, I don't own characters and shit, etc.
> 
> Tbh I need to stop sinning RIP this is also on my Wattpad, there will be a second part. This doesn't take part during any specific tour but Ryan has the 2006 hair (not the Ryhawk)

God, I couldn't take it.

I was trapped on the tour bus with Brendon, both of us managing it while everyone else went to explore southern California. The hot, beady sun beat down on the tour bus, making it way hotter than needed. I checked the thermometer on the wall of the bus next to the couch I was on. It had just reached eighty five.

Brendon had found the rocket popsicles in the freezer. I would have had one if I wasn't busy flipping through Spencer's 'People' magazine. He would kill me if I got anything on it. 

My eyes focused on Brendon. He was absent-mindedly watching the movie on the TV. The red, white, and blue popsicle in his hands kept pushing between his plush lips; in, out, in out. A trickle of red juice made its way down his chin. I fidgeted and moved my gaze to the magazine. I couldn't pay attention, something about a shitty boy band's new album. 

A loud pop sounded throughout the room as Brendon pulled the half that was in his mouth out. He thrusted it in again, going all the way to where the stick was exposed. The popsicle was at least five inches, and if he could take that in easily...

No, I thought, shaking my head. I was not thinking about that now. Brendon slowly took his big lips off the popsicle again, instead licking up the side where a line of blue was coming down from the tip. The tip of his tongue lapped around the top before he pushed it back in again.

Shit, how I wished I was that popsicle. Brendon's half-lidded eyes fluttered shut. Long eyelashes dusted his cheeks. His dark hair was tousled from lack of brushing. The next time Brendon pulled it from his mouth, his eyes opened to see his popsicle. It was wearing down, the jagged edges were dulled down to small, dull ridges. A drop of red stained his white flannel pajama bottoms. 

"Ah, fuck," The shorter boy cursed to himself. I suddenly realized I was staring very, very hard. I then realized that my stare wasn't the only hard thing. I brought my knees up so I could discreetly use the magazine to cover my hard-on while it still looks like I'm reading the magazine. "Hey, Ry, is it kay if I take off my bottoms?"

I almost choked on air, but I managed to keep cool. That did not help my problem. "Uh - um, yeah, sure," I replied, my voice raspy from not being used. 

Brendon wasn't wearing a shirt in the first place, so after stripping his pajama bottoms and throwing it towards the back of the bus, he was only in black boxers. I was more sensible, wearing a white v-neck and gray skinny jeans.

I brushed part of my bangs from my face and averted my gaze to the magazine. The story was not interesting in any way. Who cared if the lead singer wasn't able to hit high notes? At least ours could. 

My eyes still managed to find that damn popsicle. It was withering down. Brendon's partially red, partially blue tongue once again touched the tip of it as he dragged his full tongue over the tip. I shuddered and stifled a groan as my erection rubbed against the rough material of my thin boxers. 

"There's nothing to do!" Brendon groaned. All I did was nod. I bit my chapped bottom lip. He took to just thrusting the popsicle all the way in and mostly out, keeping the tip in, at a rhythm. Within a few minutes, which felt like hours, the popsicle was gone and Brendon was holding a damp wooden stick. 

I felt my mouth go dry as I watched him stand up and stretch. Brendon collapsed on the couch. My face was flushed and my pants were tight.

Brendon was looking at me with a smirk, a knowing smirk on his face. I met his eyes before casting it down to his lips. "Damn, Ry, you are not subtle when checking a dude out."

I blinked once. Twice. I registered what he said and went even redder. "No, no. I wasn't - like, I wasn't checking you out. Um-"

"You totally were. Firstly, you have a boner," he pointed out. I looked down and noticed the magazine had fallen next to him. "Second, your face is red as fuck. Your mouth is also hanging open." I closed my mouth. "I could also tell you were staring at me."

I looked down and groaned. I was totally caught. A sudden weight was on me. Brendon had his knees on either side of my hips and his arms winded their way around my neck. From the way he was sitting, he was able to look down on me. "Brendon," was all I could breathe out.

"Gosh, Ryan, if you wanted me to suck you off so bad, all you had to do was ask," he murmured as his lips touched mine. I could taste cherry on his lips. We stayed there, lips smacking and shifting for a few seconds before his tongue swiped along the seam of my lips. I knew what that mean and opened my mouth.

His tongue invaded my mouth, the tip running against my own tongue. I lazily moved mine around, tasting him. I felt him smirk against me as he reached between us, him grabbing me through my tight jeans.

He pulled away from my mouth, lips swollen. Brendon smirked and rubbed his hand in a circular motion, making me moan. "I'm sick of popsicles; let me taste you."

I smirked and tugged his head down so our lips met once again.


End file.
